


My Heart in Your Keeping

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, PWP, Reunion, Sex Toys, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Two old lovers meet for a long weekend.
Relationships: Kyra (Highlander)/Matthew McCormick
Kudos: 7





	My Heart in Your Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to N for the beta.
> 
> This got stuck in my brain because I started wondering who would be the bad habit Matthew couldn't break....

_Friday, August 14, 2019_   
_Seacouver, Washington_

Immortal presence filled Kyra’s senses before she stepped off the high-rise hotel’s main elevator. Habit had her shifting her double-stacked rolling luggage to her left hand to keep her sword hand free. She stepped forward as she sought the source of the signal, her hazel eyes scanning the hotel lobby.

Though it had been years since she had seen him in person, she recognized him instantly. He was Matthew, once known as Matthew of Salisbury, most recently known as Matthew McCormick. Wavy dark brown hair was cut neatly and professionally. He wore a blue-gray suit tailored to flatter his broad build, wide chest, and near-six-foot-tall frame. Polished black dress shoes covered his feet. From where she stood, it did not look like he was armed — either with a sword or a concealed pistol. For a moment, the vision shimmered. The first time they met filled her memory, which made her grin impishly. Gauging the distance between them, she estimated it would take her seconds to cross it. Thanks to the decorative wall cutouts separating the check-in desk/lobby from the elevators, he had not noticed her yet. Kyra parked her luggage in a corner.

Running out to greet him, she declared, “Husband! I’m so glad to see you! I’ve missed you so!” Launching herself at him, she caught sight of his surprise. The kiss he greeted her with radiated amusement.

“Darling,” he said, his arms enfolding her. He nuzzled her shoulder. “Everything okay?” he asked in Norman French, sounding worried.

“Now it is,” she answered in the same language. She pulled back and read his skepticism. “Tell you on the drive?”

He relented and kissed her softly. “My car’s outside.”

He led the way to a late-model four-door sedan and helped her put her luggage in the trunk. Neither commented when he moved his broadsword from the trunk to behind the front seat.

With ease, Matthew pulled the car into the downtown traffic. “Is anyone hunting you?”

“No. I had to pretend to be Zach Washburn’s girlfriend for the last six months. I told the security agency I didn’t want to do it anymore because he fell in love with me. He thought we really could have a relationship.”

Matthew winced sympathetically. “How old is he?”

“Nineteen. He made _Billboard_ ’s list of ‘21 under 21’ celebrities last year; he’s touring to support his second album. His first one made him an international superstar.”

“Where is he from?”

“A now famous map-dot in Indiana,” Kyra replied, shrugging. “I have his personal history and all the songs memorized; he wrote or cowrote all his hits. He wrote a track about me, called me a blond siren. I can’t remember the last time anyone wrote a song about me.”

Hearing the regret in her voice, Matthew glanced at her. “And had you met him under any other circumstance, you’d have taken him to bed with no regrets and taught him how to be a better lover.”

Not surprised he saw through her, Kyra let out a heavy breath. “Yeah. Damn it. I liked him, Matthew.”

“You wouldn’t be this upset if you hadn’t been fifteen minutes from saying ‘fuck the rule book,’” Matthew said knowingly.

“Yeah, well. I like the security agency’s policies and the management; I want to work for them again. Anyway, he’s off to tour Asia and I’m off the hook.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I put his ass on the damn private charter myself at two AM this morning.” Kyra glared at Matthew. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“No, only over two millennia ago,” he teased softly. “Have to check; make sure you aren’t forgetting anything.”

“Only why I agreed to do this,” she sniped, but couldn’t hold her temper before laughing ruefully. She would have made the same comment if their situations were reversed. “I really have missed you, λατρεία μου.”

Matthew shot her a fond look. “I’ve missed you too, love. Did you cut your hair again?”

Kyra resisted the urge to touch her hair, which reached the nape of her neck and had been layered for style. “Had to cut off the ombre brown highlights, since it was a dated fashion trend. Downside of being the fashion-conscious girlfriend — can’t be seen wearing something old. Can’t say I wasn’t happy to go back to just being blond.”

“I have to resist the urge to touch your neck. Your hair was shoulder length the last time I saw you.”

Kyra laughed. “You can touch it later,” she assured him. It had been seven years since they had last met in the same city. The last time had been in London — an entirely too brief day and a half that had devolved into tension when Matthew had refused to extend his visit, claiming he needed to return to work. The fact they were both too stubborn to stop communicating — too convinced that destroying a love as rare as theirs would be the most idiotic thing of their lives – meant that they eventually agreed to disagree.

A comfortable silence fell as Kyra let herself relax. Matthew drove with a competence that bore no evidence of the effort he had undergone to learn to drive in the early days of automobiles. For a heartbeat, her age and experience weighed heavy on her. Having two-and-half millennia's worth of useless skills in her memory but not a single one to prevent heartbreak seemed unfair. She had predicted Zach would fall in love with her. Her job had relied on making their interactions genuine. She had grown fond of him despite her resolve to stay detached. All those combined made the whole situation worse. Arranging a long weekend with Matthew seemed like the only sane way to ease the regret. In his arms, Kyra could forget anyone else existed.

It did not take them long to reach Matthew’s home. It was tucked away in a quiet-looking neighborhood full of a mix of World War II-era bungalows, Craftsman homes, and older brick mansions. Matthew’s two-story Tudor-style home sat two houses down from the top of a hill. Street parking was at a premium, Kyra noted, but Matthew had a garage to large enough to house his car.

“Nice,” Kyra murmured as Matthew popped the trunk and closed the garage door. He took one of her suitcases before opening the door that led inside the house. Matthew led the way into the house, engaging the house security alarm after locking the back door.

The garage entry led into a back hallway that did dual duty as a coat closet and miscellaneous storage. A door separated the back hallway from the main floor but opened into a U-shaped kitchen. The dining room and living room formed a great room. A half-bath was situated beside the stairs, near the front door. The living room had a corner fireplace.

“Gas?” Kyra teased Matthew, noticing the fireplace’s setup.

“When’s the last time you _wanted_ to chop firewood?” he shot back.

She chuckled. “Excellent point.”

As she had expected, the furniture leaned towards leather and wood, with an eye towards comfort and practicality. Matthew had softened the masculine tones with brightly colored pillows, paintings, and plants of all kinds. Kyra half-smiled, remembering how Matthew’s homes were always a riot of plants and unexpected color.

The second floor held a laundry room, a guest bedroom with an ensuite bathroom, and the master bedroom. Aside from noting the presence of a second toilet, Kyra ignored the guest bedroom. She was certain if she tried, Matthew would think she had changed her mind about this weekend. Instead, Kyra followed Matthew into the master bedroom.

A wide bed, wider than she remembered ever before seeing, greeted her. Matthew had covered the bed in a multicolored, East Indian-print-styled quilt. For a moment, she stopped, surprised at the size. “Planning on an orgy, Matthew? That’s the biggest bed I’ve seen.”

“Oversize king.” He grinned as he parked her suitcases by the nine-drawer dresser. “You’ve been promising me to get a MacLeod between us for how long now?”

Kyra inhaled sharply as the thought sent a shiver of lust through her. “Isn’t that forgetting one thing? As in, neither of them is here?”

Matthew considered it as he pursed his lips. “No, not really. Between us, we could get one of them in here, if not both, in twenty-four hours. Duncan doesn’t know I’m in the city yet; would be an interesting way to surprise him.”

“You know Duncan won’t,” Kyra cautioned as she undressed. “We’ve talked about this before. He doesn’t take surprises well. If you’re going to tell him you’re here, this would not be the way to do it. As for Connor – he’ll take that invitation, but it’ll be one time only unless we managed to convince him otherwise. I’m too tired to try and plan that campaign right now.”

Matthew made a moue of disappointment. “You’re probably right. Oh, well, we can dream?”

Kyra laughed. “Of course.” His eyes met hers briefly. Both remembered when his sexual experience had been limited and heavily steeped in the religion in which he had been raised. Even after living for four centuries past his mortal demise, Matthew had been convinced sex was not something a wife could enthusiastically enjoy or demand.

Kyra had been two thousand eleven years old when they had met. By then, to her, consensual sex in any form was nothing sinful. She had taken pride in teaching Matthew how to pleasure her and what pleasure his body could experience. She also had shattered his expectations on what a wife could and should want in bed. For that alone, Matthew would treasure her forever. Kyra understood his feelings for her were not driven solely by lust. He had endured long voyages to be with her, chosen to fight beside her, and opted to risk his life, his honor, and his fortune to her benefit. A lover motivated by sex would not have repeatedly made sacrifices that proved his loyalty, friendship, and love ran deep.

“You remember that party in San Francisco in 1975?” he asked her as she slid off the blazer she wore and dropped it on the chair beside the left-side nightstand.

Kyra chuckled. “It was an orgy, Matthew. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

“For all a minute,” he agreed, grinning at the memory. “You’d think I’d learn not to dare you to take me places I’ve never been.”

She grinned wickedly. “You never remember not to,” she reminded him as she unbuttoned her dress shirt and passed it to Matthew, who dumped it on the chair. She was a broad-shouldered, large-framed, fair-skinned woman, with an ample bosom, a slender waist, and wide hips. Centuries of fitness had etched muscles into her body, giving her a rower’s body. Her face was diamond-shaped, with high cheekbones, hazel eyes, a straight nose, a sharply angled chin, and a mouth she thought was a little too full. Kyra knew she was not a delicate, fragile-looking woman; she had learned to use it to her advantage. Seeing Matthew’s appreciation of her reflected in his eyes reassured her he still found her beautiful.

Matthew stepped closer to help Kyra undress. All too willing to have his hands on her, she let him undo the hooks of her bra. He rubbed out the creases where the elastic had dug in. “Did you sleep in this again?”

“You know how it goes when you’re on duty all night.”

“And if you skipped a shower and changing clothes, only you would notice? What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“Kiss me?” she offered, looking over her shoulder as his hands made quick work of undoing the straps that held her sword to her body. She had chosen her oldest sword, a Greek kopis, since it lay flatter against her back and was easier to pack than her cutlass. Matthew was one of the two immortals she trusted like this, and the only one who knew she used multiple swords. He set the sheathed sword against the nightstand and dropped the straps into a pile on the nightstand.

He kissed her. She sighed into the welcome he offered. Here was the home she had missed. He kissed softly, with no intent to arouse. Kyra could feel the heat flicker between them, a long-banked fire waiting for a spark. Matthew’s unique touch always sent her spinning. No one else could make her feel cherished and well-fucked in the same session. Wanting that pleasure, she pressed a little closer.

“You sure?” he asked. “You seem exhausted.”

“Fuck me hard, and I’ll sleep,” she pointed out. “And if you pulled out that vibrator you used on me last time, I’d like that, too.”

Matthew grinned. “And what makes you think I kept that?”

“Because if you didn’t, you’d have bought another one as soon I asked you to meet me.”

Chuckling, he reached into the nightstand drawer and set the device on the bed. “Newer model. And if you didn’t pack a dildo, I’ll check you for a fever.”

“Am I that predictable?” For a moment, she thought about making him guess her combination lock, just to see if he would go for it, then changed her mind. From the look he was giving her, he had guessed the dildo was in her purse.

“Only to me.” He stepped over and opened the satchel bag she used as her purse and fished out the dildo in its silken bag.

He pulled the dildo out of its bag and inspected it. His eyebrows rose at the thickness and length. “Not as big as me,” he noted as he took it out and put it next to the vibrator.

“I missed you,” she told him honestly. “I need my memory refreshed with the real thing.”

Matthew grinned wickedly. He had been blessed with an above-average-sized cock in both length and girth. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“It’s crossed your lips once or twice,” Kyra managed. Lust and impatience rose within her like twin wildfires. She reached for him, wanting him to be naked as fast as possible. “Get naked, now.”

“And have you think I’m any other fuck?” he countered sharply. “When’s the last time you had something other than a dildo inside you?”

“Eight months,” Kyra admitted.

“Then no, I won’t take you without prep,” he countered. “I don’t care if you’ll heal; I don’t want to hurt you.”

Impatience warred with practicality. Matthew was not the largest man Kyra had ever slept with, and she freely admitted to not being a size queen – but the fact he was endowed, and knew how to use it, were bonuses she would not deny.

As if reading her thoughts, Matthew leaned in and kissed her. “Even if I love to feel you open up around me, let’s not repeat discovering that yes, you can get horrible cramps if you don’t stretch those muscles enough.”

She barked a rueful laugh. “Then don’t dawdle,” she admonished him. “I’m tired and I need to feel you in me.”

He helped her undress the rest of the way before removing his clothes. She took the cue to pull back the bedcovers, then met him in the middle when he crawled on the bed to kiss her.

As always, his kisses were preludes, telling her she had been missed, that he loved her, that he would always want her. She gave as good as she got as he reacquainted himself with her body.

Using his fingers, he sent her crashing through her first orgasm. She was wet for him, though not as much as she knew she could be. When he moved to taste her, she tried to shift so she could take his cock into her mouth, but his hand on her hip stilled her.

“Want you to enjoy this,” he told her, lifting his head so their eyes could meet.

Kyra shuddered at the promise of pleasure in his eyes. “You want me to come screaming on your tongue,” she countered.

“As if you’d protest that,” he told her, and licked one fingertip. He placed it on the tip of her clit, then waited. When he had drawn out the anticipation enough, he repeated the gesture, then used his fingers to explore further.

Instinctively, Kyra spread her legs wider, even as she braced herself for a long, drawn-out session. Matthew was playing her sex precisely the way she liked it, the way she had taught him so long ago. Knowing that was happening did not change her reaction to it one whit. She still wanted more and faster, but Matthew had learned patience long before their paths had crossed.

His fingers and his tongue explored her hidden crevices and relearned her buttons. He made her soar to her second orgasm of the evening using only his fingers and his tongue, then brought in the vibrator to keep her motor running. She forgot about the dildo until he worked it into her.

“Damn you,” she panted.

“You can fuck me with it later,” he promised her, leaning up to kiss her and seal his promise. “Come on, Kyra darling, you can go higher, fuck yourself on this. How many nights did you wish this was me?”

“Too many,” she agreed, lifting her hips and thrusting. “Sweet gods, Matthew, oh want you, not this, λατρεία μου,please,” she pleaded as the passion rose through her. It was sweet torture to feel toys on her clit and in her pussy, to know her favorite lover wielded them but was not them.

She crashed through an orgasm before he relented and set the vibrator aside. He let her rest a moment before pulling out the dildo, lubing it up, and inserting it in her rear passage.

Kyra let out a whimper as she realized what he intended.

Matthew smiled. “Tomorrow night, you and I will find someone pretty and take them to bed together,” he promised her. “Do you want that, my love?”

“Yes,” she said, and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry. Part of her was sure they wouldn’t do it; the fantasy alone was enough to crank their motors. Part of it was sure they would, because they had. For now, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the feel of Matthew’s cock inside her pussy while a thick, long dildo was in her ass, the love and lust in which they were soaking themselves. No one had ever loved her like Matthew did; no one else understood the ways she relished sex. He reveled in her pleasure as only another hedonist would.

An outsider would assume two law-abiding professionals would not have such deep-rooted desires. A prude would be shocked at the colorful filth that spilled from Kyra’s mouth in Greek and English as she urged Matthew to fuck her, to drive the dildo up her ass, to drive her out of her mind with pleasure.

“Wouldn’t you love to let that pretty boy singer see you now?” Matthew asked her. “See his hungry eyes as he wonders which way you’ll let him take you?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” Kyra cried. “Would you blow him, get him ready for me?”

“Yes,” he said, and kissed her briefly before he pounded rhythmically into her. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. She wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, pleaded with him to go, but he held his control. He was making her cream around his cock, sending her through cascades of desire. Still, the ultimate cliff seemed just out of reach.

He pulled out slowly, making her gasp in protest, then slammed into her, which made her gasp again. He deliberately made her feel every inch of his not-inconsiderable-cock as he teased her, making her clutch her vaginal muscles to keep him inside her.

“Damn it, Matthew, please,” she pleaded. “Fuck me.”

He reached for the vibrator again, touching her clit as he stroked his cock rapidly in and out of her pussy.

Kyra’s orgasm hit her like a slap out of nowhere. “God, λατρεία μου, please, please oh god, love you so much.” Shuddering under its force, she panted, unable to do anything but feel the hit of pleasure.

She caught Matthew’s smile as he let go of his control. “Love you, Kyra.”

She didn’t think she could go any higher than she already was, but his words triggered another wave of pleasure so intense, she screamed. Caught by pleasure and exhaustion, Kyra blacked out.

* * *

Judging from the light shining through the bedroom windows, it was late afternoon. Feeling as though she had rested, Kyra rose and investigated the adjoining bathroom. Matthew had stocked the shower with an unscented shampoo and a vanilla-scented shea butter soap. He had also unpacked her suitcases into the dresser’s top two drawers and put her toiletry kit on the bathroom vanity counter. She found her favorite robe hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. After showering, she put on underwear and the robe. She stepped out of the bedroom and down the stairs to find Matthew seated on the couch, reading a tablet. He had changed into a pair of knee-length shorts and a knit shirt.

Seeing her, he set the tablet on the coffee table and rose to greet her with a kiss. “Sleep well?”

“As if you had any doubt.”

He grinned. From the fridge, he pulled out a platter of cut fruit, meats, and cheeses, assorted nuts, and a bottle of white wine. From the counter, he quickly added a pre-sliced mini loaf of bread and a few sleeves of crackers to the platter. He poured Kyra a glass of wine, which he handed her. Then he pulled cheese plates from a cupboard, napkins, and the bottle of wine. He brought everything over to the living room, setting the lot on the coffee table.

“As delicious as this looks, I was looking forward to a proper dinner,” Kyra teased as she took a seat on the couch.

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tonight, I figured we could talk and eat without worrying if we’re burning anything.”

Kyra smothered a laugh. “Not we’d know about that.”

“You must have me mistaken with some English idiot,” Matthew said in his best Southern drawl.

“Yeah, and I remember when that drawl was not something you had, let alone knew what it was,” she shot back. “God, Matthew, how long has it been since we met?”

Startled by that question, Matthew took a moment to calculate. “Three hundred fifty-nine years. It was 1660.” A smile played on his lips as he remembered. “It upset you that after twenty years of service to the queen of France, you had to start over. The head of the guard wouldn’t accept your credentials because you were a woman, and you looked too young. He said for you to come back when you were married or older. You were the last woman I expected to come marching over to me.”

“You kept watching me like I amused you. You had the look like you had seen confident, strong, determined women before. Most men looked at me and assumed I needed aid or protection. You looked like you were laying bets on how soon the head of the guard would either give in or toss me out on my ass, and you were betting on me winning. I never got the sense you were betting against me.”

“Ceirdwyn would’ve had my ass if I ever underestimated any woman brave enough to make her own way.” Matthew toasted her. “You, my love, have always been the best bet. Welcome home, wife.”

She grinned; hearing him call her that would never, ever get old. Few knew they had married; fewer still knew the circumstances. Kyra preferred it that way. The marriage had dissolved with Matthew’s accidental death three years after its consummation. The love that had first bound them despite their contrived beginning had changed as the years had turned to decades. Still, Kyra counted on its strength and resilience. Matthew had her heart in his keeping; the reverse was true.

“Glad to be home,” she agreed, clinking her glass against his and taking a sip. She studied the platter; he had stacked it with her favorites. She selected a few pieces to start.

“What are you doing these days? Your text said it was too long to write.”

“National law firm needed an expert familiar with police and paramilitary agencies. They hired me to help them craft policies and defenses for their clients, everything from safety and security policy manuals and procedures to constructing arguments for litigations.” Matthew made his platter selections and took a few bites before elaborating. “I don’t have to carry a firearm and I have a regular schedule. Their client list includes your employer.”

“Was wondering when you’d get out of the FBI,” she remarked, surprised.

Matthew grimaced. “Darlene Hogan’s dead. She was my computer inside the system. Without her, I have to lie low.”

Kyra winced, recognizing the name of a woman who had helped pioneer modern computing. Darlene had made her living helping other immortals pass government-level background checks. “Who took her head?”

“The idiot punk she was trying to teach.” Disgusted by the waste, Matthew shook his head. “Heard it from a friend of a friend. I was just about to call Darlene, too.”

“To, what, move over to Border Patrol?” Kyra looked at him askance. “Didn’t you do that already?”

“Says the woman who’s been a bodyguard for a millennium and counting,” Matthew retorted.

“Touché.” She sighed and studied him. “You look happier than the last time I saw you, what, ten years ago? I didn’t think you’d leave the FBI.”

“I wasn’t happy,” he admitted. “Not with the policy changes that made it felt like things were going backward. At least with this job, I’m not searching the cesspools of humanity for leads.”

“But you’re already nitpicking how the lawyers are drawing lines around loopholes.”

Matthew made a face. “Am I that predictable to you?”

“I keep telling you, love, let some shit go or you won’t make it to see a millennium. People will always draw boxes around everything.”

“And you aren’t burning out, hmm?”

Caught by that, Kyra looked away briefly. “I can’t pretend it’s difficult sometimes watching people commit the same stupid mistakes, make the same predictable moves. But I’d rather see it and try to prevent it while protecting people than to spend another century so bored by it all that I lose sight of why I’m alive.” She shuddered at the memory.

Matthew reached over and grasped her hand. “You said that was why you spent too long guarding British royalty.”

Kyra shook her head. “Yes, but we were talking about you, not me. When will you revert to an English accent?”

“When you lose yours,” he shot back, amused. “I took back Salisbury as my last name, at least. I have to think like a Brit if I want to speak like one, and I’m out of practice after being in America for almost two centuries.” He took a sip of wine and studied her.

She met his gaze, unafraid of what he would see.

“Why can’t we be together for more than a few days, a week at most, Kyra? As much and as often as we’ve conspired to be together, we should have better chances of making a relationship work. What’s different that we made marriage work between us for three years and then never again?”

She chuckled. “Because we’re both workaholics who need another person to make them come up for air occasionally? And as much as we love each other, whenever we’ve tried for longer than a few weeks, it always ends in us both walking away and not talking for a decade or more? What made us work when we were married: we didn’t know each other. We didn’t know how alike we were and had to learn. You didn’t know what kind of Pandora’s box I’d open for you.”

Matthew laughed wryly at that. “I thought with four centuries behind me, I knew exactly how to seduce a woman and what to do in bed. I also thought I knew just how many ways a woman could hide in plain sight. You blew that open.” He met her gaze. “You taught me so much, in and out of bed.”

Kyra nodded. “As did you, with how you made me aware I assumed English castles were like French ones and how out of touch I was with English culture. I would have died if we hadn’t been married.”

For a moment, they remembered how Kyra’s behavior had been the cause of many conversations in which Matthew had been admonished to mind his wife.

“The head of the guard never believed me when I said trying to hold you back was like reining a wild horse.”

Kyra laughed. “He was an ass,” she remembered. Shaking her head, she returned to their earlier discussion. “Getting back to why we wouldn’t work long-term — now, we know we need a third to balance us if we tried to make a relationship work 24/7/365. Friendships over long distance, lovers who see other every few years — that works for us.”

Matthew grimaced at that. “And we both like to fall for mortals who need protection, which means we’d never sleep enough even if we found one who’d be happy to be with us both.” He leaned over and stole a brief kiss.

“Speaking of mortals — were you really serious about picking someone up tomorrow night?” she wondered.

“Did you want to be?”

Kyra studied him. He did not seem to be advocating one way or the other, which meant he would follow her lead. She considered the suggestion a moment, then shook her head. “Not when I’m not sure when we’ll get this chance to be together again,” Kyra admitted ruefully. “It sounds like you’re more stable now, which means you’ll start contemplating who can make a good long-term companion for you. The work you’re doing likely means you’ll be expected to be doing some socializing, preferably with someone suitable as your significant other.”

Matthew made a face at her assessment. “You say that like I’m supposed to pick them out like I pick a suit.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You can tell me I’m wrong at the corporate holiday party. I’ll be the ex-wife you can’t live with because I’m a horrible housekeeper.”

“Which is absolutely true. You never take out the trash,” he noted.

Kyra shrugged. She was a professional bodyguard; housecleaning had never been a skill she wanted to practice. “So?”

“Deal, especially since that means I get to see you in a dress.”

“Only if you’re buying it.”

He glared at her. “As if I would leave you bereft.”

“You like to see me naked; I had to check,” she excused herself.

“Incorrigible.”

“You love me anyway.”

“More fool me.” He softened his words with a kiss, then offered to top off her wine glass, which she accepted.

“And where will you go now that you’ve ended your assignment?”

“I’m likely getting assigned the next hot young thing, which could mean I’m flying to LA, New York, Atlanta, or to the ass end of Prague.”

“And you’ve never minded living out of a suitcase,” he noted.

“Never understood why people object to it so much now,” she said, shaking her head. “No one’s hunting us; none of our friends need us. I’d like to spend as much time with you, given all those things.”

Matthew did not look surprised by her reluctance. “Then that’s all the more reason to not worry about cooking dinner.”

She laughed and arranged herself so she could lean against him while she ate. “Uh huh, and you don’t have a movie queued you think I will absolutely narrate and point out what’s wrong in it. Or who stars someone you want to fuck.”

Grinning, he shifted so he was more comfortable and could keep as much of her body against hers as he could while still eating, then hit play on the TV. They would squabble over his selection of movie or TV show, make love, eat, and sleep, not necessarily in that order. It would be the best long weekend for them both — a moment to live in, to soak in uncompromising acceptance and love from each other, so they could both go on living forever. Less determined individuals would have long ago broken under the weight of such a compromise. For Kyra and Matthew, though, it wasn’t a compromise: it just was how they could continue to love each other without that love ending in regrets that both knew could last centuries.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> λατρεία μου (latria mu) = my adored
> 
> Feedback always welcome!


End file.
